


I. Betrayal

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, During Canon, Established Relationship, Horror, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-02
Updated: 2006-09-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean's nightmare is more than just a dream. First in the Unveiling Series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Not sure if any _actual_ spoilers exist, but better safe than sorry. *g A _VERY_ small one for â€œScarecrowâ€, in fact unless youâ€™re looking for it, you probably wonâ€™t catch it, as well as another small reference to â€œFaithâ€. There are some for â€œThe Bendersâ€, no in depth details, but in passing reference here.   


* * *

BETRAYAL  
By Shorts

The air hummed with menace as Dean spun around in a circle, trying to pin point the source of the danger. Through the gloom he moved around the desecrated alter of the condemned church. A presence brushed against him and he twisted around, eyes widening to catch any movement among the shifting shadows. Deep laughter echoed, taunting him with black promises and wicked vows regarding his fate. He knew he faced something that had no concept of mercy and his bloodstream flooded with adrenaline as the next pass touched him intimately, lingering with a cold hand. Flinching, he backed away, hoping to find a way to get to Sam.

Unseen ties whipped around his arms and legs, binding them tight, effectively immobilizing him as phantom hands skated over his body. To his horror, his clothes had vanished like smoke, leaving him vulnerable to the aggressive touches that danced over his skin making it crawl. He clenched his muscles against the cold, icy caress that traveled down his back, slipping unencumbered to tease a moment at his entrance. A choked groan caught in his throat as he strained to pull away from the penetrating invasion that wormed its way inside. Pain flared as the intrusion grew harder and thicker, slowly alternating between retreating and advancing inside him.

“ _Ours to do as we wish_ ,” said a voice inside his head.

He felt dead, cold lips press against the nape of his neck and he shuddered against the pain and horror.

“ _We know your weakness_ ,” continued the voice as tantalizing touches fondled him before engulfing him in cold wetness. 

The insistent flicker of a long tongue teased him into responding, despite the revulsion of what was happening to him. Far away, he could hear Sam calling for him and he tried to call out, but no sound would pass his lips. 

“Dean,” repeated Sam, splitting his attention between the road and Dean sleeping restlessly beside him. From recent experience, he knew not to reach out and try and shake him awake. It was a painful lesson he had no desire to repeat, especially in the closed confines of a moving car. 

The nightmares had been steadily getting worse over the last week, and Dean refused to discuss them, brushing off his questions with a terse word that they were just dreams. A half strangled groan set the small hairs on the back of his neck on end and he cursed the narrow, winding road that had no extra room to pull over.

A road sign announced the town of Nomed Hollow was three miles ahead and Sam struggled not to push harder on the accelerator. Small towns like these were notorious for speed traps, and he forced himself to obey the posted speed limit. He rubbed hard at the back of his neck, trying to get the tendons to relax, but sleep in a decent bed was the only remedy.

Two things happened at the same time. The Impala passed over the town line painted white across the blacktop and Dean jerked awake, knee bashing into the glove box while his elbow struck hard against the door.

“Dean?” Sam practically jumped out of his skin at the sudden eruption. “Are you okay?”

Blinking, Dean sat up straight, looking around to get his bearings. “Where are we?”

Sam studied his brother, noting the pale flush and bright eyes. “Nomed Hollow.”

Dean looked at Sam uncomprehending.

Sam shrugged and motioned at the small town they were entering. “I didn’t name it.”

Turning his attention to the passing storefronts, Dean shuddered as a chill ran down his spine. “Just keep driving.”

Sam frowned. “We’ve been on the road since yesterday, and we’re both tired. I need to eat, and not some junk food at a convenience store, either.”

“We’ll stop in the next town,” insisted Dean, eyeing the smattering of pedestrians strolling along the sidewalks. 

“Dean,” said Sam, striving for patience. “This is the first town we’ve driven through that is large enough to actually have a motel.” He pointed up ahead at the small motel with a diner across the street.

“Then I’ll drive,” said Dean, through clenched teeth. The nightmare had rattled him and he simply wanted to keep moving. It didn’t matter that he was trying to run from demons his own subconscious created.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” asked Sam. “You’re in no condition to drive any more than I am. Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t stop.”

Dean pressed his lips tightly together, unable to voice exactly why he wanted to keep going and not sound completely nuts. It was just a dream, he reminded himself. But it seemed so real. Rubbing his face with both hands, he tried to dispel the lingering traces of unease. Sam was right. They both needed sleep in a bed where they could stretch out.

“We’re grabbing something at the diner then checking into the motel,” said Sam, intent on getting something other than nuked, bone dry burritos and stale potato chips. Without giving Dean a chance to argue, he pulled into the parking lot and parked.

Dean hesitated a moment then opened his door and followed Sam toward the diner entrance. He felt eyes watching him and glanced over his shoulder at the people and cars passing by.

“C’mon,” said Sam, opening the glass door and gently nudging Dean inside. “Warm food, a comfortable bed . . . and me . . . you’ll be back to your hardass self in no time.”

Dean missed a step and shot Sam a warning glare before checking that no one else had heard him.

Sam grinned and led the way toward a back booth, sliding into the seat. The rumbling of his stomach was loud and insistent. He studied Dean sitting across from him and his eyes narrowed at the paleness that still colored his brothers cheeks.

“What?” asked Dean, staring back.

With a smile, Sam covered his concern. “We better get something to eat and quick. You’re starting to look like prime sirloin to me.”

A faint blush heated Dean’s face and was saved from any further remarks by the waitress.

Relieved to see a little color return to Dean’s ashen complexion, Sam turned his attention toward the waitress.

“My name is Sandy. Can I get you boys something while you make up your mind?” asked the waitress, sliding menus in front of them.

“Coffee,” said Dean, flipping open the large laminated menu.

“Water,” said Sam, swallowing the saliva that filled his mouth at the picture of a large hamburger on the cover.

Glancing at the menu, Dean was distracted by the over powering sensation of being watched and hunched his shoulders against it.

“Are you okay?” asked Sam, peeking over the tall menu.

“Yeah,” answered Dean, not really looking at what was offered.

Sandy brought their drinks and placed them on the table. “Do you need a little more time, or have you decided?” She looked at them both, but lingered on Dean and gave him a small smile that went unnoticed.

“Is it too early to get a hamburger and fries?” asked Sam, hoping like hell it wasn’t. He ignored the subtle signs that were directed toward Dean. Dean’s casual conquests didn’t faze him, simply because he knew that when all was said and done, he was the one Dean loved.

Sandy shrugged, gracing him with a smile in turn. “Mack could throw it on the grill if that’s what you’re wanting.”

“Great,” smiled Sam, handing back the menu. “With fries?”

“Make that two,” said Dean, not really caring at the moment what he ate. Without looking up, he relinquished his menu and kept his eyes focused on his coffee as he sipped it.

“You got it, handsome.” Sandy paused before turning away to place their order.

Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, Sam ducked his head to catch Dean’s attention. “Are you coming down with something?”

“What are you talking about?” frowned Dean, settling back in his seat.

“Usually, when a pretty waitress shows even a slight bit of interest in you, you’re out doing yourself to hook up,” said Sam. “And she . . .” gestured Sam, “fits your criteria.”

“I’m tired, Sam,” said Dean, trying to brush off Sam’s concern.

“I’ve seen you practically dead on your feet and _still_ turn on the charm,” countered Sam, flashing on the memory when they were outside the faith healers tent. 

Not wanting to deal with Sam’s twenty questions, Dean took the opportunity to turn the table on him. “Now why would I go after a chance hook up, when I go you? Besides, you’re way prettier than her.” He smirked as Sam choked on the water he had just swallowed. The thought of shutting out the world for a little while with Sam was the perfect distraction to turn around this dark mood. Stretching an arm across the back of the booth, he licked his bottom lip while imagining the many different ways they could distract themselves.

Shifting in his seat, Sam tried to hide the effect that Dean had on him when he looked at him like that. The darkening of Dean’s eyes was a tell tale sign that sleep would be put off a little longer after they ate.

When the food arrived, they both turned their attention to eating, enjoying the hot grease that dripped with each bite and the thick steak fries smothered in ketchup.

Pushing away his empty plate, Sam sighed in contentment, watching Dean pop the last bite of his hamburger into his mouth.

“Can I get you anything else?” asked Sandy, gathering the empty plates. “We have some of the best apple pie.”

“No,” said Dean, a little harsher than he had intended.

“Thanks, anyhow,” said Sam, trying to cover for him.

Nodding, Sandy placed their check on the table and left, not even giving Dean the backward glance that was the usual trademark of waitresses all around that found interest in him.

Tossing a few bills on the table, Sam stood and moved toward the register. He kept an eye on Dean as he continued outside.

The sensation of being watched had faded while they were eating, but now it came back with a vengeance. Dean flipped up the collar of his light jacket against the chill that brushed against the back of his neck as he waited just outside the diner for Sam. He looked over at the motel across the street and refused to allow his imagination to rule his life and accepted the fact they would be staying here in Nomed Hollow at least until tomorrow.

Sam walked out and patted Dean on the back as he headed for the car. Slipping behind the wheel, he felt more tired than before they had eaten and drove them across the street to the motel to check in, even if they had to pay for an extra day to get a room early.

Shouldering their duffle bag, Dean paused at the threshold of the motel room and scanned the immediate area, but nothing stood out as a threat. Shaking himself in an attempt to dispel the unsettling sensation, he moved into the room and closed the door.

Sam had already turned down the bedding and was sitting on the edge and untying his boots. Looking up, he grinned, a lopsided smile. Whatever was bothering Dean, he intended to banish it. Stripping down, he retrieved what he needed from the small pack at his feet and flopped back on the bed, watching as Dean undressed.

Tossing his boots in the corner, Dean yanked his shirt over his head, kicked off his jeans and joined Sam on the bed. Before he was settled, he found himself pinned as Sam wrapped him in strong arms, pulling him close.

Using his weight, Sam pushed Dean onto his back and insinuated himself between the muscled thighs of splayed legs. Using his knees and elbows as leverage, he rocked his hips, pressing down to slide their burgeoning erections together.

Dean surrendered control as he was kissed hard and deep. He bent his legs at Sam’s nudging and a twinge of apprehension flickered up his spine as slick fingers pressed against him before sliding inside.

Sensing Dean’s tension, Sam stilled his movements and pulled back to look down at him. “We can switch places if you want.”

Shaking his head, Dean pushed down the unwelcome feeling. “And do all the work? Are you crazy?” He lifted up and captured Sam’s mouth, drawing him back down. Sam’s talented fingers resumed their quest to prepare him and he forced himself to relax. Sparks flared as Sam found the spot nestled inside him and he groaned.

Wanting this to be good, but not a marathon of endurance, Sam slipped on the condom and sheathed himself inside Dean’s body, easing his way until he was flushed against his hips. “Ready?”

Dean hooked his ankles behind Sam’s thighs and grounded his hips upward.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Sam, his voice shaky as velvet muscles clenched around him. Easing out slightly, he pushed forward smoothly, changing his angle of entry until he found the right one.

Tipping his head back, Dean gasped as pleasure traveled through him at the long, drawn out slide of Sam filling him.

Breathing heavily through his mouth, Sam grinned as Dean squirmed beneath him, simultaneously pushing against his chest with the palm of his hands while drawing him closer with his legs. Balanced with one hand on the mattress, he gripped Dean with the other, stroking him in time to his thrusts.

The tingle started deep in his gut and Dean closed his eyes, riding the growing tide that built within him.

Watching Dean closely, Sam sped up, slamming hard and fast into the tight heat, striving to push him over the edge before he let himself go. Twisting his fist, he brushed his thumb over the weeping slit of Dean’s erection, upping the sensation of sliding his hand along the thick column.

Arching, Dean slid his legs up around Sam’s slender waist and locked his ankles together as he strained against the insistent sliding of Sam impaling him. A groan tore from his throat as he came, tendons labored under the onslaught as Sam continued to slam into him.

Gasping as Dean clenched around him, Sam ducked his head, and concentrated on reaching his own climax. The feel of Dean’s heels digging into his back as he shuddered beneath him had Sam’s hips bucking as he lost the rhythm and tumbled over the edge. Clenching his teeth, he froze, caught in the whirlwind of his orgasm as it pulsed through him, before collapsing boneless on top of Dean.

“ _Soon._ ”

The voice jolted Dean and his eyes flew open as he sucked in air. Stiffening, he quickly looked around the room, but no one was there. Cold chills ran down his spine and he shivered.

“What is it?” mumbled Sam, sensing Dean’s sudden tension and lifting his head off of Dean’s shoulder.

“Nothing,” answered Dean after a moment, easing back.

“You sure?” asked Sam, easing his partly softened erection out and rolling off of Dean.

“Nothing some decent sleep won’t fix,” said Dean, rubbing a hand over his chest, willing his heart rate to slow.

“Don’t think that will be a problem,” yawned Sam as he tossed the used condom into the bedside trashcan. Leaning over the side of the bed, he snagged his T-shirt off the floor and wiped himself down before handing it to Dean.

Lying on his side, Dean listened intently to the silence as Sam spooned behind him. He knew he hadn’t imagined the voice, contrary to the evidence that they were alone. Despite the unease that cloaked him, the solid presence of Sam pressed close was comforting as he drifted off to sleep.

Sam carefully eased himself up and peeked over Dean’s shoulder, having feigned sleeping until he felt Dean yield to the inevitable and soft snores told him his brother was finally sleeping soundly. Sighing, he watched Dean, wishing he would talk about the nightmares that had been troubling his dreams. Hopefully, with decent sleep, he could finally get an answer out of him. 

Darkness seeped into the room as they slept through the day and the sun set. The temperature in the room dropped, as movement shimmered in the growing shadows.

Jerking awake, Dean thought he was caught in another nightmare as a dark mass hovered over him. The reality of Sam sleeping beside him brought home this was not a dream as the darkness quickly enveloped him in its icy embrace, silencing his attempt to call out to Sam. He tried to curl into a protective ball, but felt himself being lifted from the bed as consciousness left him.

The jostling of the bed had Sam stirring, but he never woke as he was left alone in the room.

Cold. That was the first sensation to seep into Dean’s consciousness as he grimaced at the ache in his arms. Lifting his head, he tried to clear his vision. The gloom made it difficult to make out many details, but the familiarity of his surroundings caused his heart to skip a beat. The place was the same one from his nightmares and he hung next to an alter in the remains of an abandoned church. Looking up, he yanked against the metal clasps around his wrists. Twisting one way and then the other, he tried to look everywhere at once, but he saw no one else there.

“ _Dean._ ”

The sound of his name sent shivers through him and he tensed. The voice was the one he had heard in the motel room, speaking from within his own mind. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked, tugging harder against his bonds. 

“ _We are one and we are many._ ”

He hadn’t really expected an answer, even as vague as this one. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he was able to ease some of the strain on his arms. Swallowing against a mouth that had gone dry, he cleared his throat before speaking. “What do you want?”

“ _You._ ” 

“No!” Cold tendrils swirled around him as he twisted in an attempt to escape the relentless touches that had free reign to roam as they wished over his nude body. 

“ _You are the key._ ”

“Yeah, well this key is gonna kill your sorry ass!” Dean twisted and pulled against his restraints, ignoring the metal cutting into the tender skin of his wrists. He clamped down on the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. 

“ _We will destroy you and yours . . . through you._ ”

Dean choked on a sob as unseen lips suckled him to hardness against his will, flicking a serpentine tongue up and down his swelling length. The icy caress down his back had him straining to escape the inevitable. A scream tore from his throat as the icy intrusion invaded him, forcing him to accommodate the growing girth that impaled him. The violation was relentless, thriving on his misery as it fed. Fear and pain coursed through him as he hung helpless against the merciless assault. Closing his eyes, he called out to Sam with every fiber of his being. His nightmare had come to life.

***

“Dean!” Sam sat upright in bed, his hand automatically reaching out, but he met with emptiness. He gasped as the phantom pain flared, then dissipated as he regained his equilibrium from sleeping to waking abruptly. Dean’s voice still echoed in his head, calling out to him.

It was bad enough Dean was suffering from nightmares, he didn’t need to be having them as well. Blowing out a cleansing breath of air, he quickly scanned the room and glanced over to the dark doorway of the bathroom. Rolling out of bed, he checked, but Dean wasn’t in there either.

Frowning, he pulled aside the corner of the curtain and peered outside. The Impala sat where he had parked it earlier, but there was no sign of Dean. Moving toward the door, his expression turned to confusion as the door was still locked from the inside, the deadbolt firmly in place. “What the fu. . . ?” 

Turning in a circle he searched for any clue as to explain Dean’s absence. It was then he realized they hadn’t taken the protective precautions their father had drilled into them. It didn’t take long to set a perimeter of salt around the room, but neither of them had been thinking clearly when they had checked in. Granted, he had forgotten sometimes, but Dean never had, assuring their safety had always been high on Dean’s list.

That would explain how it, whatever _it_ was, had gotten in, but that didn’t explain how Dean was taken without opening a door or window. Unless it was a demon of the highest order, which in that case, they were in deep shit.

Sam roughly dressed, trying to think where to start looking for Dean. Pacing the room, he ran his hands through his hair, trying to quell the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. Forcing himself to calm down, he sat at the table and flipped through their father’s journal, trying to find anything that would explain what had happened. That _was_ happening.

After twenty minutes, he slammed the worn journal closed and shoved it across the table top. Searching through John’s journal had indicated a demon needed a portal. Whether it was through a human or a site, didn’t matter. Cast it out, or destroy the source, and it lost its power to remain on earth. Whether he was right or wrong, it would soon be put to test. Providing he could find Dean. Picking up his cell phone, he frowned as no service was available. Not that John would answer, but at least he could leave a message for him that he needed help. He resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room, slowly squashing the surge of panic that threatened to cloud his judgment.

Suddenly he doubled over, pain lancing through him with icy clarity. Gasping, he gritted his teeth and held tight to the table until the wave of agony eased. An image of a room flickered along with the vile attack he felt. Squeezing his eyes shut, he was shaken by the implications that what he was experiencing might actually be happening to Dean.

***

Dean’s resolve to withstand anything this demon could visit upon him started to crumble at the relentless brutality. Time seemed to have ceased, pain and agony blended in an endless loop.

“Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?” choked Dean, his voice hitching on every word, but strong with defiance.

“ _That would defeat our purpose._ ”

Sharp talons slid over his abused chest, which was littered with bite marks that were discolored and bruised.

_”Death simply strengthens your family against our kind. To kill you would merely make your father and brother more dangerous than the three of you already are._ ”

“Yeah?” hiccupped Dean, as the brutal assault continued. “Well, you haven’t seen anything yet, you son of a bitch.”

“ _Ah, so bold. So strong. We were right. You are the key that holds your family together. We break you, we break your family._ ”

“Give me your best shot,” gritted Dean through clenched teeth. “You obviously sure as hell don’t know me.”

“ _But we know you and your family very well. We also know the inner thoughts of each of you. Thoughts you keep hidden from each other._ ”

“You don’t know shit,” spat Dean, gathering his waning strength.

The demon whispered in his mind, revealing secrets he could barely admit to himself and had tried to bury, proving that the demon did indeed know his most private thoughts and feelings. Unbearable heat stroked him, burning him from the inside out. Arching to the limit of his toes, Dean’s head fell back as he screamed until his throat was raw and blessed blackness swept him away.

***

Holding his head, Sam rocked in the chair, experiencing the phantom echoes of Dean’s abuse faintly as flashes of pews with cobwebs strung to the floor played out behind his closed eyes. Feeling ill, he could only imagine the unfiltered agony that Dean was being subjected to in this hell on earth.

Fighting his instinct to try and break the connection, he held on with fierce desperation. Instead he tried to make sense of the visions to get a clue as to Dean’s location. It was obviously a church. One that hadn’t been used for god knew how long. Over the hollow screams that were torn from his brother, the sound of a train whistle could be heard. At that moment his connection with Dean was broken and he fell to the floor on his knees. Panting against the horror, he lifted his head as he continued to hear the train whistle gradually growing louder.

Pulling himself to his feet, he stumbled to the door and yanked it open. Concentrating on which direction the sound was coming from, he darted into the parking lot. He had worried that Dean could be anywhere, but with the sound of the train whistle being heard here and where Dean was held narrowed down the whole fucking world.

Running back into the motel room, he grabbed the car keys and ran back outside, throwing himself into the Impala. Dawn was still hours away and he hoped to be able to find the abandoned church that was the source of his visions.

***

The wisps of black smoke took on substance, turning to flesh and bone. Hands, familiar and rough, took physical form to slide over Dean’s shoulders and up his arms to his manacled wrists.

“Sam…?” croaked Dean, his voice harsh and gravely. He swallowed a sob of relief at being found.

“ _Ssshhh_.” 

When Sam’s hands ran back down his arms and around his chest, he tensed, confused why Sam hadn’t picked the manacles and freed him.

“ _You always did roll over so pretty for me, Dean._ ” The voice took on the quality and tenor of his brother, as well as the physical.

Heart caught in his throat, Dean turned his head and stared into eyes that flickered with unholy light. Horror blossomed as the touch altered and changed, mimicking those he had enjoyed, but these were driven by hate and not by the love they mocked.

“ _Have you ever wondered why Dad and I fight so much?_ ”

“You’re not Sam,” said Dean. The familiarity of the touch, even in sadistic parody, shook him.

“ _We fight over you. He knows I fuck you and he wishes he was the one to sink into that willing ass you offer so sweetly._ ”

“Shut up!” Dean trembled as he was fondled, long fingers playing him with familiarity that only came from intimate knowledge. Hardening against his will, he bit down on his lower lip, drawing blood.

“ _Shall I tell you what our father desires? His fantasies of you? Or how much I enjoy using you, making you beg for my touch?_ ”

“Go to hell,” whispered Dean, wishing the words would stop, hating that he imagined the ring of truth in them.

Calloused fingers, rough and dry, slid over tender flesh as they probed past his entrance. 

“ _Your body knows my touch and begs to be fucked._ ”

Dean twisted in an attempt to pull away. Straining in a breathless scream as his abused center was once again penetrated with ungentle force. The thick member stretched him further, unrelenting in its entry of his body as the demon took its pleasure with vile ease. To his shame, he came, his orgasm torn from him as strong fingers continued to roughly fist him until he was spent.

Hanging limp from his shackles, Dean tensed as he felt the demon change as it moved to his side. His breath caught as his father stood before him.

The demon whispered in his ear, John’s voice velvety soft. “ _I shouldn’t have left you. I was wrong to think you were untouchable. My own son. But instead of taking you for my own, I let you slip through my fingers and into your brother’s bed. Well . . . I’ll be rectifying that soon enough._ ”

Dean’s head snapped back as he was backhanded across the face.

“ _You’ve forgotten your place. You belong to me._

Still reeling from the blow, it took a moment for Dean to realize the demon in John’s form had moved on top of the alter and now stood before him. Hard fingers gripped his jaw, digging the tips into the nerve endings and forcing his mouth open.

“ _I always loved your mouth. Especially when you never questioned me, unlike your brother._ ”

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Dean gagged against the length and girth of the cock filling his mouth. The salty taste slid over his tongue and the spongy head pressed against the back of his throat. With each thrust, his air was cut off, causing him to panic at being smothered.

“ _I’ve pictured you like this many times, but nothing beats the reality._ ”

Hot, sticky fluid filled Dean’s mouth and down his throat. He choked, swallowing against the still thrusting cock that continued to rape his mouth.

“ _You’ve got talent, Sam’s been teaching you well._ ”

Despite coming, the cock was still thick and hard as it withdrew, leaving Dean to cough and gasp. His jaw ached from the iron fingers that had held him in check.

“ _As sweet as your mouth is, it’s your ass that I’ve been wanting for years._ ”

“Please,” begged Dean, knowing what was coming.

“ _Just think. If you had been honest with me in the beginning that you shared my desires, you would be warming my bed._ ”

“Not true,” denied Dean.

“ _You forget. I know all the secrets. Yours and theirs. One little word of encouragement and you would have dropped to your knees for me._ ”

Hiccupping a sob, Dean let his head fall forward, surrendering to the inevitable as calloused hands roamed over his skin.

“ _Hell, I would have been generous enough to share you with Sam, from time to time. Even now._ ”

Holding his breath, Dean braced himself as his asscheeks were parted and the blunt head pressed firmly against him. A soul shattering scream tore through his raw throat as he was once again pierced unmercifully with brutal force.

Time blended with the blur of Sam and John taking turns, using him until he didn’t know where one pain ended and another started. Throughout the assault, revelations were whispered in his ear, ringing with an underlying truth that he had refused to acknowledge about himself.

The sky lightened with the coming of the dawn. The demon had withdrawn with the rising of the sun, leaving Dean limp and exhausted, but with promises of returning. He shuddered as tears of pain and humiliation fell from his eyes. 

His entire body ached and throbbed and he felt a trickle of wetness run down the back of his thighs. Whether it was blood or some other viscous liquid, he didn’t want to know. The sound of birds drifted to him, mocking him with their songs of freedom as he waited for death, the demon, or Sam.

The feeling in his hands had long since gone numb and the feeling had gone from overbearing to barely there in his shoulders as he hung from the metal cuffs. Head hanging, he drifted between awareness and oblivion from the cold and the harsh ill-treatment he had suffered.

The sound of a motor was faint, but growing louder and Dean struggled to lift his head and concentrate on the sound. Listening, he let out a half choked sob at the familiar rumble of the Impala. Relief washed over him, causing him to lose the battle of consciousness.

It had taken well over two hours of back roads and side trips to follow the train tracks before he spotted the abandoned building. Sam drove carefully over the unused dirt road, avoiding the deep ruts from ages past and the occasional rock that had migrated from god knew where. He had taken every side road between here and town that kept him close to the train tracks. More than once he had to pull over when his connection with Dean struck.

By now the sun had risen, bringing a cloud streaked morning that helped him spot this place set back from the road. He pulled up to the weather worn church and turned off the engine. Gathering his backpack and flashlight, he stepped out of the car, pausing to listen, but he only heard the twitter of birds darting among the trees.

Moving cautiously, he tested the boards of the steps leading to the front doors and slowly pushed them open. The creak of rusted hinges screeched in protest and he flicked on the flashlight. 

The light cut through the dusty gloom and settling on the swaying form of his brother. “Dean!” Breaking into a run, he ran down the aisle of the broken pews.

“Jeezus,” hissed Sam, as he took in the dried blood that streaked Dean’s body. He quickly scouted around and dragged a pew that still looked half way sturdy and moved it beneath Dean. Gently, he guided his feet to rest on it.

Blinking, Dean couldn’t focus on Sam, flinching from his touch. The lure of slipping into unconsciousness was strong and he gritted his teeth to concentrate.

Sam cringed at the injuries that had been inflicted on Dean. Withdrawing the small case from his pocket, Sam balanced on the pew and reached up to pick the locks to Dean’s manacles. Releasing the metal that had dug into the skin, Sam grimaced as Dean groaned from the pain as his arms fell limply to his sides. He felt Dean pull away in a feeble attempt to twist away from him.

Dean’s vision blackened around the edge as blood rushed through oxygen starved muscles and his legs buckled under his weight as his other wrist was released from its shackle. Knives stabbed through his arms and shoulders as Sam caught him. Instinctively he cringed away from Sam, relieving the pain that had been inflicted on him while the demon had worn his face.

Sam eased him down until Dean was on the floor. “Where is it?”

“Don’t know,” whispered Dean, barely audible through a throat raw from a night of screaming. He curled into a ball, trembling at Sam’s touch.

Cupping Dean’s face with his hands, Sam winced. “Let’s get you to the car.”

“We’ve got to destroy it, Sam,” croaked Dean, forcing himself to talk through the pain. 

A howl broke the hushed silence as wind rushed through the church. Debris whipped in a devil’s tornado for a moment before suddenly stilling. An air of ominous silence returned and the shadows took on a menacing cast.

“What the hell was that?” demanded Sam, protectively holding Dean.

“I think it’s back,” shivered Dean, despite the warmth that Sam radiated against his cold skin.

Pulling his backpack closer with one hand, Sam rummaged through it and withdrew a gun loaded with rock salt. Setting it down, he removed a bottle of holy water and held it to Dean’s lips.

The cool liquid eased the sandpaper grit in his mouth and throat and Dean gratefully sucked the water from the bottle. Turning his head away, he coughed as he accidentally inhaled while drinking.

“I’ve got a couple more bottles if you want to finish it,” offered Sam, constantly scanning for the demon to make an appearance.

Dean shook his head, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there.

“I figure if I sanctify the alter, then burn down the church, the demon will lose its portal and be forced back where it belongs. Or at least weaken it,” said Sam. Carefully, he moved Dean clear and started to pour holy water on the alter, reciting a blessing in Latin.

Nearing the last stanza of the prayer, the howl returned with a vengeance and dark tendrils snaked out from the shadows, avoiding the intermittent rays of light that shone through the roof as the sun rose higher into the sky.

Lying on his side, Dean curled into a tighter ball as Sam faced off the demon, too hurt to help. A smoky tendril wrapped itself around his ankle and tugged while another snaked up his leg.

Without missing a beat, Sam flung holy water from one of the bottles in an arc, its scattering droplets sizzled as the demon was struck, releasing Dean from its grip. Shouting to be heard above the growing crescendo of wind and unholy screams, he slammed the bible onto the alter ending the ritual.

The silence that followed was deafening and Dean couldn’t stop the flinch as hands came to rest on him.

“Let’s get you out of here and finish this,” said Sam, slinging his pack over one shoulder while bracing his other shoulder beneath Dean’s unresponsive arm. Hauling him upward, he half carried and half dragged Dean out of the church, settling him in the back seat of the Impala with blankets to warm him.

Shifting as far away from Sam as he could, Dean curled up in the backseat against the far door.

Opening the trunk, Sam lifted out two five gallon cans of gasoline and set about finishing the job. Standing beside the Impala he watched as the flames took hold and raced along the dry wood. Satisfied that it couldn’t be saved, he slipped behind the steering wheel and checked on Dean huddled in the back seat.

Dean drifted, feeling safe for the first time in weeks. He could sense Sam in a way he had never felt before and he clung to the knowledge that the nightmare was finally over. The jostling of the car over the rough dirt road woke injuries that had gone dormant while he had waited for Sam to finish with the church.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Sam kept a close eye on Dean. Dark circles beneath his closed eyes stood out in contrast to the pale coloring of his face. Damning the risk of a speed trap, he made quick time back to the motel.

Pulling in front of their room, Sam hurried to unlock the motel door. He looked around for any curious eyes that might be watching before gathering Dean inside. The bed had been remade by housekeeping and for that he was grateful. Neither needed the reminder of the crumpled bedding where Dean had been snatched from their bed. He gently laid Dean down on the bed and quickly locked the door.

Moving to the bathroom, he plugged the tub and started to fill it. While the water was running, he dug through their bags and removed the container of salt, pouring it around the room to protect them. There was a chance that the demon hadn’t been banished back to its place origin and he wasn’t taking a chance.

Checking on the level of the water, Sam stripped and turned off the faucet. Setting his jaw, he handled Dean’s dead weight into the bathroom and into the hot water and carefully settled behind him to support Dean against his chest.

Dean groaned as the water stung over his injuries. He felt Sam’s arms encircle him and he tried to push away. “No.”

“I’ve got you,” soothed Sam, cradling Dean against his chest. The tub wasn’t big enough to lie in comfortably and it was never meant for two. He kept perfectly still, feeling Dean tremble in his arms. Whatever the demon had done to Dean went deeper than just physical wounds. The sound of sirens rose and fell as they passed by the motel, obviously on their way to the fire.

The warmth of the water had Dean drifting. He tried not to shy away as Sam gently washed away the blood and tears. The feel of a soft cloth running over his body hurt when Sam cleaned out the cuts and bites. Exhausted from his ordeal, he tried not to hinder Sam’s attempts to get him out of the tub, dried off and into bed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed next to Dean, Sam worked on the cuts and scrapes with antibacterial ointment, bandaging the worst of them with gauze. Biting his lip against the curse that wanted to spill out, he tended to the bites that covered Dean’s chest, stomach and genitals.

Clenching his fists in the sheets, Dean kept his eyes firmly shut, unwilling to see the look of horror on his brother’s face he knew would be there. He kept telling himself that this was Sam, not the demon.

Hoping the numbing agent that was mixed with the ointment would help, Sam braced himself as he urged Dean to roll over. His back was as bad as his front, scratches and bites marred his skin and Sam blinked away the tears that threatened to fall at the sight of his brother’s suffering.

Burying his face in the pillow he had crushed to his chest, Dean vibrated with tension when Sam’s hands carefully cupped his cheeks to spread them apart. It took every ounce of strength that remained to lie still and not to strike out and scramble away.

Sam inhaled a hissing breath at the raw, abused tissue that bore tiny tears. The evidence of the brutal rape sat like a stone in Sam’s stomach and with shaking hands tried to keep his touch light as he applied the ointment. He knew what he had to do, and laid a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“I know,” choked out Dean. “Just get it over with.”

Coating his finger with the ointment, Sam pressed it inside the swollen, hot entrance. Trying to be gentle, he checked for any major tears that would need a more professional care than he was able to offer.

Dean held his breath, straining not to jerk away from the questing invasion that slid further inside his overly tender opening. Clenching his teeth against the renewed pain, he gasped as Sam withdrew.

“There’s bruising and swelling, nothing that time won’t heal,” said Sam, pulling up the sheet and covering Dean.

Curling on his side, Dean willed the awaken pain to go away.

“There are painkillers, but you haven’t eaten since yesterday morning,” said Sam, torn about leaving Dean alone to get something from the diner. No wonder Dean had a hard time separating himself from him after he had been kidnapped.

Dean nodded, not trusting his voice.

The need to soothe Dean’s pain overrode his insecurity at leaving him alone. Determined not to be gone any longer than necessary, Sam pulled out the thin phonebook from the drawer and looked up the number for the diner across the street. It was still late morning and he placed an order of toast and scrambled eggs. He waited to make sure it would be ready when he dashed over there.

The sound of the door clicking closed caused Dean to twitch and he curled on his side. He stared at the bedside clock, trying to come to terms that it hadn’t been days, but hours. The ointment had taken off the sharp edge of the pain, now everything just throbbed with each beat of his heart. The demon’s words kept echoing in his mind, tainting his feelings. He knew most of what it said was lies, but enough truth had been mixed in to blur the line between the two.

If it knew about him and his darkest secrets, then it could reasonably be assumed it also knew Sam’s and John’s as well. Even then, it didn’t mean that what the demon had taunted him with was completely true, either. As hard as he tried to put what had happened in perspective, that it hadn’t been either Sam or his father, emotionally he couldn’t separate them from the demon.

The silence of the room started to crowd him, and he huddled on the bed, straining to catch any movement of shadows or whisper that meant the demon had come back. 

Sam approached the counter and noticed Wendy was working again that morning.

“Hi, Sam,” said Wendy, behind the counter as she placed the coffee pot back on its burner after topping off a customer’s cup.

“Hi,” said Sam, trying not to be impatient, but eager to get back to Dean. “I called in an order.”

“It’s right here,” said Wendy, picking up the Styrofoam container from beneath the warming lights and slipping it into a plastic bag.

Sam nodded and fished out his wallet to pay for it. He handed her the bills when it occurred to him that Wendy had addressed him by name. “How did you know my name was Sam?”

Wendy kept her eyes on the register as she made change. “You gave it when you placed your order for pick up.”

“Oh,” said Sam, trying to remember if it had been her he had spoken with when he had called.

“Dean isn’t with you?” asked Wendy, handing Sam his change and plastic bag. 

Frowning, Sam pocketed the money. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he backed away toward the glass door. “He’s, uh, sleeping in.” He knew there was no way she could know Dean’s name and turned for the door.

“Well, I hope he gets to feeling better,” said Wendy, locking eyes with Sam as he looked over his shoulder at her. A subtle smile graced her lips.

He glanced around the diner, but no one was paying him any attention. When he glanced back at Wendy, she no longer had the predatory look. Instead she was looking at him quizzically.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Uh, no,” answered Sam, staring at her hard, but any trace of what had happened had vanished. With his heart racing, he slammed out of the diner and ran back to the motel, fear eating at him that he had left Dean alone.

Dean jumped as the door was unlocked and swung open, while Sam hurried inside. The smell of food had his stomach rolling and he swallowed against the bile that surged up his throat.

“We need to leave,” said Sam, slamming the door closed and locking it. “Now.” The demon hadn’t been able to physically reach Dean until they arrived here, which he hoped meant that putting distance between them and here would be safer.

Struggling to sit up, Dean moved slowly, despite the urgency he felt radiating from Sam. “Sam?”

“I’ll get you settled in the back seat as comfortably as I can,” said Sam, rushing around the room and shoving their stuff into their bags. He tossed a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the bed next to Dean.

Sitting hunched over on the edge of the bed, Dean didn’t question Sam as he struggled to pull the T-shirt over his head. Each movement sent waves of pain through him, and he tried to gather his strength to pull on the sweatpants.

Sam had darted out to the car and tossed their belongings into the trunk. He placed the pillows he had stolen from the room in the back seat and stuffed blankets in the floor well behind the front seat. Entering the room, he saw Dean trying to work the sweatpants on. He knelt and helped, supporting Dean as he gently tugged them up and over his hips.

The urgency that Sam was moving had Dean scared. He bit down on his tongue as Sam half carried him out to the car. Speed right now was more important than caution for his injuries as he was bundled into the backseat. He held on to the plastic bag that held the toast and eggs that Sam shoved at him along with a bottle of water.

“Try and eat,” said Sam, pocketing the bottle of painkillers for easier access. Slipping behind the steering wheel, he glanced at Dean in the rearview mirror as he backed out. 

Dean didn’t bother to chew the almost tasteless eggs. The initial surge of nausea passed as he continued to force himself to eat between drinks of water.

Driving through town Sam kept an eye out, convinced that the demon wouldn’t allow them to escape past its reach. When he drove out the other side of town and over the boundary line marking the town limits, he let out a sigh of relief. Turning his head, he shifted to look back at Dean, noting that little remained of the toast and eggs. Digging into his pocket, he shook out two painkillers.

“Here,” said Sam, twisting around slightly to hand the pills to Dean. He caught the involuntary jerk as Dean tried to jump away from his outstretched fist. He had tried to chalk up Dean’s reactions to what the demon had done, but it was becoming more obvious that Dean was reacting to him.

Cautiously Dean accepted the pills and washed them down with a swallow of water. Once Sam was turned back to face the front, he settled as comfortably as he could with the pillows and blankets. The steady hum of the tires and subtle sway of the car was accompanied by the feeling of leaving behind not only the demon, but a part of himself that was still lying broken on the floor of the church. Everything caught up with him and he gratefully embraced the numb darkness of oblivion.

Driving through the small towns that dotted along the highway, Sam continued without stopping. He wanted as much distance behind them before he had to pull over. He stared at his cell phone for a moment before slipping it into his jacket pocket. He had been able to call John and leave a message, giving him an abbreviated version of what had happened. 

The demon hadn’t just struck at Dean physically, but had shaken his trust in him. The only other person Sam knew Dean trusted was their father, and to see him through this, Dean someone he trusted around him and evidently it wasn’t him. Knowing he hadn’t destroyed the demon itself, but only the portal it had used to reach into this world caused his anger to surge. It was possible it would find another way back, but until then, Dean was safe. And next time, if there was a next time, they’d be ready.


End file.
